I see various depictions of heaven with multitudes of souls in long robes, as though they continue to be ashamed of the bodies they lived in, walking through clouds and surrounded by angels with white wings. None of them have writing equipment, oil painting paraphernalia, and knitting tools. All of them are mere bricks of the same mold being mortared into one, big wall--and I know that that is not the heaven I choose to be in.

I sincerely believe that every soul is an individual soul, and that heaven is custom-made to every individual.